He wished she hadn’t moved so close to the edge of the bluff, but if he told her to step back, she’d bite his head off. He yearned for the quieter, more compliant woman he’d first met. “Why do you even care?” he said.

“I don’t like mysteries.”

“Leave it alone, Lucy.”

Her hood blew back. “Here’s what I think. I think you have some kind of connection to the Remington family. That’s why you bought this house, and that’s why you don’t want anything changed.”

“The house has roots, and I don’t. It’s what I like about it and why I’m not getting rid of the table you’re so obsessed with.”

Fortunately she moved a few steps away from the edge. “Could be true,” she said. “Now tell me the rest.”

Like hell he was telling her the rest. As he watched the wind slap that yellow slicker against her small body, he couldn’t imagine spilling his guts about any of it. Curtis, the army, how it felt to be a cop walking into some rat-hole apartment to tell a mother her kid was dead. How it felt not being able to trust yourself. He’d rather tell her how beautiful she was. Even her messy hair and fake tattoos couldn’t destroy the sweet feistiness of that face or the allure of those green-flecked eyes.

He reminded himself that all this sweetness, that spirit, was destined for somebody else. Someone who hadn’t spent so many years mucking around in the shadows. Someone who could never hurt her.

“There’s no rest to tell.” He reached out and pulled her hood up, sending rainwater down the back of her neck. “You laid out the terms for this affair. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft and fallen for me.”

He watched her closely—not sure what he wanted to see—both relieved and disappointed that her expression remained unchanged. “I’ve fallen for your body,” she said, “even if you are starting to look like a warning poster for illegal steroids. The body is definitely spectacular—all but the part between your ears.”

She was so full of life, so smart, so screwed up. For years, she’d been pushing herself into a mold that didn’t quite fit, trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, and now she was floundering. As for the two of them … For all her big talk about her asinine reverse bucket list, she wasn’t cut out for a dead-end affair. She needed real intimacy, something he couldn’t give her, and damn it, if she wouldn’t look out for herself, he’d do it for her.